


(In)Decent Proposals

by SunderSoul



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, Clint Barton (Mentioned) - Freeform, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tony Stark (mentioned) - Freeform, Very Mild Language, or may become a dumping ground for other drabbles, possibly a series of one-shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunderSoul/pseuds/SunderSoul
Summary: It's a harsh whisper in a dark tone: “Y’know how long I’ve wanted to order you around?”In a universe where Steve and Bucky never knew each other, Steve's anger has gone unchecked and Bucky's compassion never flourished.  Their first meeting in-person goes worse than Steve imagined.  But it isn't Bucky's belligerent behavior that irritates him the most; it's the knowledge Bucky has about him when Steve knows next to nothing about him in return.





	(In)Decent Proposals

Steve’s so sick of the windowless fortress of SHIELD that he’s debating going AWOL and just taking a trip outside, consequences be damned. It’s been about a year since he’s been recovered from the ice but only two months since he’s been allowed to the higher-clearance floors, like this one. All the hallways in the underground facility look exactly the same and thank God he’s following Natasha or else he’d never know where he was.

Natasha rolls up to a stop in front of a door labeled 21B. It’s a regular conference room door – Steve remembers being debriefed for the first time in room 03A – and he has very little reason to feel nervous. Natasha apparently does though; the sudden stiffness and the way she rubs the pads of her fingers together makes Steve stand up straighter. Natasha is much smaller than Steve but she’s still terrifying. She’d have his back in a fight – though it’d taken almost the whole year to trust her and know that she trusted him – and Steve is glad to be the one at her side with as edgy as she seems. Her eyes dart up to his for a moment and Steve sends her a small smile. It isn’t returned but she winks at him once, hip checking him softly enough that their hips merely glide against one another. Then she opens the door and strides in, previous anxiety gone.

Steve inhales sharply and steps into the room, eyes automatically surveying the area. It’s just a normal conference room with all the standard furniture and large projector screen. What isn’t normal is the body slung carelessly in a chair across the room; the chair is spinning slowly as the figure within lightly and methodically pushes off the floor with a booted foot. The figure is big, looks bulky with what is obviously a lot of muscle and body armor, and is decked out in all matte-black fabric and Kevlar. With Natasha in shiny, black leather, Steve feels too bright in his navy uniform with the white accents on the trim and seams, and the blinding white of the star on his chest. Steve sends a mildly amused look to Natasha, but all her attention is on the individual across the room. Her hands are balled at her sides but steady. Feeling protective, Steve slowly walks over to her, slightly behind and to her right. He can see her pulse hammering away in her neck and the sight of it makes him grit his teeth. When he looks back up, the figure has already made another circle in the chair so Steve just misses seeing the person’s face.

The delicate movement of Natasha’s throat as she swallows makes Steve pull up just a little closer behind her. She ignores him but her voice is steady when she calls out to the figure. _“солдат_ ,” she grinds out. The figure pauses mid-spin, still facing away from Steve and Natasha. The spinning resumes just a second later before the figure – a man, Steve can see for sure now – plants his boot down to stop its momentum so he can face Steve and Natasha. The first thing Steve notices is the black mask covering the man's nose and mouth. The intensity in the man’s eyes, bright blue and surrounded in black grease paint, make Steve automatically roll his shoulders back and grit his teeth. The man’s eyes follow the movement and one of his eyebrows quirk in interest. Natasha hisses at Steve under her breath and he would roll his eyes if they weren’t so riveted on the man before them.

“Natalia,” the man murmurs; his eyes are completely focused on Natasha now. His voice is low, grating across the air and burrowing deep into Steve’s memory. Steve can hear Natasha’s breathing change but when he chances a look at her face it’s blank. She steps away from Steve and casually pulls out a chair at the long conference table, turning her attention to the tabletop and the files on it. The man is seated at the back corner and Natasha opposite him, so Steve grabs a chair somewhere in the middle and sinks into it slowly. Looking once more at Natasha for direction, he sees her digging through the file on the tabletop. Steve completely tenses when he looks back up and sees the man leaning over the tabletop as far as he can, staring at him. Despite the distance between them, Steve feels pinned. It’s a familiar feeling, and the familiar anger, old, battle-tested and weary, rises within. 

Digging down deep, Steve channels his best imitation of Tony: “What, I got something on my face?” The man doesn’t react but his eyes continue to dance over Steve’s face. Steve boldly turns his face to the side a little. “You want a picture?”

_That_ gets a reaction, but Steve has no idea if he’s won over or pissed off the man. He slowly eases back into his seat, a pleased hum coming from behind the black mask covering the lower half of his face. Chuckling, the man tears his eyes from Steve and switches to Natasha. “ _Мне он нравится_ ,” he says to her. She raises her eyes from the tabletop and smiles sweetly at the man, which Steve knows (from experience) is a warning.

“Hands to yourself,” she nearly singsongs, and the man laughs again. His eyes dart back to and over Steve in contemplation. Steve shoots Natasha a confused glance but she’s already back to shuffling through pages.

There’s the creak of leather tactical gear from across the table. Steve can see that the man’s eyes are crinkled at the corners in amusement when he leans over again. “You gotta name?” he rasps.  His English is slightly accented, sounding more foreign than Natasha's does.

Frowning so that his lips don’t curl in distaste, Steve aims for Clint-levels of sarcasm. “Nah,” he brings his hands up and cracks his knuckles, “they just call me Captain.”

It’s a power play, and everyone knows it judging by Natasha’s unimpressed snort and the man’s surprised bark of laughter. Steve wishes he could see the man’s face to see if he’s actually smiling or just pissed when he says, “Yeah, earned that during your USO tours, hm?”

Pale-skinned as he is, Steve flushes in both embarrassment and anger; the color deepens further when Natasha bites her lip and smothers another snort behind a sheet of paper. Anger sparking in his gut, Steve leans forward over the table as well. “And how’d you earn your name, _солдат_?” he questions sharply.

Natasha huffs under her breath but Steve hardly spares her a glance. The man’s eyes are gleaming in what could be delight or could be fury; it doesn’t really matter to Steve at this point. “Well,” the darker-haired man drawls. He pushes away from the table and stands very slowly. A gloved hand runs through his dark shoulder-length hair, laying messily on one side as he slinks around the table and sits three chairs from Steve. “They used to call me the Asset,” the man breathes. Steve’s stomach turns at the cold glee in his eyes. “Or the Weapon,” the man’s counting the names on the fingers of his left hand. “The American,” a third finger, “and my favorite: the Fist of Hydra!” With that, he curls his fingers inward and slams his fist on the tabletop. Steve swallows heavily as the man chuckles quietly. Natasha huffs again under her breath and shoots Steve a look like _yeah, he’s THAT soldier._

“But,” and Steve jumps because the man is only a seat away from him now, “you can call me...Bucky.” He tugs the black mask from his face and Steve’s tongue tied, has no sassy response because he’s handsome, gorgeous even – not disfigured or even evil-looking. Except for the wickedness in his smile and the daring brightness of his eyes, he could be the military’s perfect GI Joe model.

“Bucky?” Steve repeats breathlessly. "Bucky" bites his lip and nods, looking almost childishly eager if not for the gauntness of his face and the lurking danger in his body language.

He licks his lips slowly and pulls thoughtfully at the black mask hanging around his neck. “You still want me to call you _Captain_?” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, and Steve’s blush is back full-force.

“Whatever you want,” he mutters lowly, watching the man’s face – Bucky’s face – light up.

He turns to Natasha with an even wider grin. “Okay, I _really_ like him,” he gushes. Steve’s eyes widen and he turns quickly to look at Natasha. She looks rather surprised (for Natasha, at least) and merely gives Steve a warning glance.

When Steve turns back to face Bucky, he’s in the seat right next to him. “Jesus,” Steve breathes out involuntarily. Bucky’s eyes narrow but his smile sharpens as he moves close enough to lean on Steve’s armrest. Bucky says nothing, just shoves his left arm right next to Steve’s right; something about Bucky’s arm feels strange, and suddenly he remembers that it’s a metal prosthetic. Curious, Steve’s eyes glance hungrily over Bucky’s arm but everything is covered in SHIELD-issued tac gear. From this close, Bucky smells like oil and warmed metal, maybe a little cologne or aftershave. His eyes are alternating between bright blue and dark grey, depending on the light hitting them, and his lips are a bitten-red color. Bucky pushes even further into Steve’s space, lining their arms up from wrist to shoulder. Steve tenses and grits his teeth – hates people touching him like they have a right to, like he’s only government property after all – but forces himself to still.

“Very good,” Bucky breathes next to him, patting his hand approvingly. Steve shudders and glares at him. “Didn’t expect you to be as solid as you look,” Bucky continues, nudging their arms together roughly. “All the recordings made you seem larger than life, _Да_?” Helpless, Steve looks back to Natasha; she’s just staring at them, but she has a pen in one hand and it looks like she’s been taking notes. Steve’s heart rate picks up when he thinks about what she could have written. _Soldier has taken interest in Steve; Steve is helpless and will be eaten alive._

There’s the sound of footsteps right outside the door and Bucky pulls back, slips his mask up and empties any emotion from his eyes. The sudden change in behavior is stunning when Steve glances at Bucky’s blank gaze. Coulson steps in, smiling gently over his shoulder when he shuts the door. “Good afternoon,” he greets, striding forward and walking around to the other side of the table. He spends a few seconds staring at them placidly before inhaling and folding his hands behind his back. “I assume you’ve looked over the files?” Guiltily, Steve looks down at the table. Natasha slides the file over to him, but Bucky’s gloved hand shoots out in front of Steve and grabs it before he can.

“I disagree with your choice of team members,” Bucky speaks, waving the file around slightly. His voice is cold and dark again, like when he greeted Natasha, but Steve can’t tell if he’s angry with his face mask pulled back up. Bucky tips his head in Steve’s direction and clenches his free hand. “I want this one reassigned.” Steve tenses when Bucky points at him.

Coulson blinks slowly and sighs quietly. “Captain Rogers has passed every test given to him since his recovery.  He has been working exclusively with our agents and has been approved by SHIELD psychiatrists and higher ups to begin fieldwork.” To Steve, it definitely sounds like this was rehearsed, as though they expected Bucky to fight them on Steve’s presence on the team.

Bucky shakes his head quickly, though it is not childish or eager this time, just vehement and demanding. “I don’t want him leading anything,” he argues. Steve hadn’t even realized he’d be taking point in the mission, had thought Natasha would with all her experience. “ _Captain_ or no,” and here Bucky shoots Steve a heated glance that Steve steadfastly ignores, “he needs direction.”

Coulson’s expression doesn’t change; he turns to look at Steve with only a slightly raising of one eyebrow. “What do you think, Captain?” Bucky snorts under his breath at the title and Steve closes his eyes in a bid for patience.

“I’ve never worked with – Bucky,” Steve says haltingly, and here both of Coulson’s eyebrows shoot up. “And I haven’t worked with Natasha in the field yet.” Steve swallows roughly and looks at his hands as he mumbles the next part. “And it’s been…years, I guess, since I’ve done any fieldwork at all.” Bucky grunts beside him, looking pleased when Steve meets his gaze.

Coulson cuts in. “Then Barnes will lead the operation,” he declares, quiet but firm. His lips twitch as though he has something to add, but Bucky ( _Bucky Barnes_ , Steve’s mind supplies) shifts in the chair next to Steve, hardened leather tac gear whining quietly. Coulson nods shortly and levels a steady gaze on each of them.

Natasha clears her throat quietly; when she meets Coulson’s eyes she’s got a small, sly smirk on her painted lips. “ _Captain Rogers_ hasn’t read the briefing yet.”

Coulson’s docile smile turns warmer, looking more personal when he glances at Steve. “Didn’t take you for a slacker, Cap.” Steve purses his lips and breathes out a laugh. Beside him, Barnes huffs before scooting his chair close enough to jostle their shoulders together. Coulson suddenly comes around the table, nodding respectfully at Natasha and Barnes but sticking a hand out for Steve.

Steve hurries to his feet, brushing against Barnes a little roughly in his haste. “Sir,” Steve mutters as they shake hands.

Coulson’s smile widens a bit more; he grips Steve’s hand tighter and catches his eyes. “If you’ve got a minute after reading the briefing, I’ll need you to come by my office.”  Natasha wolf-whistles under her breath and Coulson shoots her an unimpressed stare. “Pre-mission check-in times are listed at the end of the brief.  Read up and get ready.” Coulson eyes Steve warmly once more and adds, “See you in a bit,” before striding evenly out the door and shutting it behind him.

Steve sighs a little and turns back to the table. Barnes has his boots on Steve’s chair, knees bent and legs spread apart. He claps his gloved hands on his thighs. “Would you like to have a seat, _Captain_?”

“Hm,” says Natasha from her seat. Steve splutters and glares at the other man before scurrying to Natasha’s side. She stands before he can even get fully situated in the chair next to her. “Unlike _some_ people, I’ve read up on the mission,” she chides mockingly. Steve grits his teeth and eyes the file lying next to Barnes. “You’ll have to make sure he gets caught up,” Natasha tells Barnes. He nods, tugging the mask away from his face and grinning at her full-force. She doesn’t return the smile, just runs her hand through Steve’s hair on her way by and pads silently out into the hallway.

Even from across the table, Barnes’s smug attitude is nearly palpable. “What a treat,” he suddenly says. Steve doggedly keeps his mouth shut and merely crooks his fingers in the general direction of the file. Barnes apparently interprets that as Steve wanting his presence _with_ the file, vaulting jovially out of his seat and prowling around. He stands directly behind Steve’s shoulder when he drops the file on the table. Steve would turn around in his chair if it didn’t mean he’d be looking up at Barnes from somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. Steve leans forward in the chair to grab the file, using the motion as an excuse to push himself closer to the table and further from Barnes. The other male steps in right along with him. “Getting to work with you is a treat, is what I meant,” Barnes chirps. Steve ignores him in favor of grabbing the file and flipping through it, skimming the pages. He knows they’ll all get their own copies of the files on the ride over to their drop off point, but he’d hate to show up in Coulson’s office without having read it over like he’d asked. “And I get to _lead_.” Barnes’ tone is covetous and right above Steve’s ear. Steve can smell the warm, iron tang of his arm and, probably, about twenty hidden knives on the man's body. “Y’know how long I’ve wanted to order you around?”

It’s a harsh whisper in a dark tone. Steve hunches further over the table and flips another page, looks at the pictures of their targets. “I still outrank you,” Steve’s traitorous mouth moves, and he almost freezes in apprehension as he realizes what he’s said. Barnes laughs gustily from behind him, clapping a large, heavy hand onto his shoulder. He says nothing else, but the pressure of his hand, hot even through the glove, keeps Steve rooted in his seat. He flips another page, sees the list of things they _absolutely cannot do_. It’s a stealth mission and Steve wonders why he’s even going since he’d practically been a target as Captain America in the forties. But he’s working under Natasha and Barnes, both of whom are notoriously deadly, successful assassins. If Steve’s going to learn to be stealthy from anyone, it’d be them.

Barnes removes his hand from Steve shoulder and then trudges a few chairs away before throwing himself into it. He leans heavily on his left arm, cheek propped up in the gloved hand. Steve chances a look at his expression and would laugh if it were anyone else since the man looks almost _pouty_. Since it is Barnes, Steve turns back to the file. They’re being tasked with investigating some obscure underground facility up in Massachusetts with six known Hydra operatives supposedly working there. Steve’s already wondering how they plan to get past all the surveillance and security stops the file has listed when Barnes opens his mouth again.

“Since before I was recovered from Hydra, if you were wondering.” Steve’s startled from his thoughts and straightens to look at Barnes directly. “ _That’s_ how long I’ve wanted to boss you around.”  He’s got what looks like a thick needle perched between his lips. Steve’s face must show his confusion because Barnes straightens in his chair and grins around his makeshift toothpick. “Hydra tracked you for ages, man,” Barnes laughs lightly. He runs a gloved finger through his hair and chuckles again. “Had me watch all the tapes of you from back in the forties, in case we’d ever meet.” His eyes narrow and he licks his lips around the needle. “Seems like they knew you weren’t dead,” he admits breathlessly, “like they were just waiting to dig you up themselves.” The sentiment freezes Steve’s heart, but Barnes shrugs and continues on. “I’ve been prepped for this moment for almost seventy years,” he breathes, leaning across the table. One hand claws its way forward over the tabletop, reaching for Steve. “Always thought I’d be incapacitating you and bringing you in to Hydra though,” Barnes muses, watching his hand idly, reaching toward Steve.

When Barnes turns his eyes up to Steve’s, Steve’s fingers twitch underneath the table, reacting to the yearning in the other man’s eyes.  “I’ve been waiting over _seventy years_ ,” Barnes repeats, “to boss you around, have you follow my every order.” Barnes licks his lips around the needle again, and Steve’s eyes track the movement. “Because Hydra always had it so that _I’d_ be leading, _I’d_ keeping you in check. Like _you’d_ be the unknown, the one they couldn’t trust.” Barnes’ hands come together and he peels the gloves off slowly.  It’s almost indecent, the way he sheds the gloves off. Steve finally gets a glimpse of the gleaming metal appendage, but it’s short-lived; Barnes drops that hand into his lap, hidden under the tabletop. Steve’s eyes are instead drawn to Barnes’ glittering gaze. “Gotta admit, it’s nice that SHIELD’ll give me the same power over you that Hydra would.”  His grin is nasty, edged with malice and what Steve hopes isn’t the intent to hurt him.

Steve slams his eyes shut and stands abruptly. He avoids looking at Barnes, merely slaps the file closed and shoves it in Barnes’ direction. “Hydra and SHIELD,” Steve seethes at the tabletop, “are _not_ the same thing.” Steve looks up just long enough to catch Bucky’s surprised, disappointed look.

“Aw,” he whines as Steve turns to leave. “Don’t be like that, Cap.” Steve continues stalking to the door. “You at least gotta dismiss me!” Barnes protests, voice growing louder. “You’re my superior in rank, right? Put me in my place!”

Steve opens the door and glares at Barnes over his shoulder. “Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. He shoves himself through the door and slams it shut behind him. It’s only when he starts walking through the hallways that he realizes he has no idea where he’s going.  Feeling utterly exhausted, Steve digs into the pocket on the thigh of his cargo pants and grabs his SHIELD-issued cellphone.  He clicks on the first of his speed dial contacts and feels some tension leech away from his shoulders when Phil answers.

“Captain?”

With a sigh, Steve murmurs, “Please tell me how the hell to get to your office.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thanks for reading! This is my first fic published on AO3, so I ask that the readers please point out any mistakes and give me any constructive criticism you may have. I will say that perhaps Steve and Bucky may seem OOC, but that was my intention. If the two grew up without the other to curb one another's anger and to cultivate each other's kindness, I think they'd turn out something like this given their unique individual backgrounds. Additionally, Natasha may seem a little too emotional, but I believe that if Steve's the one surveying her he'd read more into her actions and would assume she seems nervous or scared when really she's just fine. However, if you still think they are far too OOC, please let me know. Also, I use some Russian words/pronunciation in this and I know nothing at all about the language, so if any fluent speakers think the words are wrong for the situation or if I should take it out altogether, please tell me.  
> On a more story-related note, I have very little idea where I'm going with this. I have enough drabbles that I could turn this into a dumping ground for various Avengers (and various Steve/someotherAvenger) pieces I have, or I could continue along the vein of this piece and do drabbles in this 'verse. The only thing I know for certain is that this won't be a full-fledged, continuous fic and that updates will be very sporadic if I continue posting at all. I say this because I don't anyone following the fic with the expectation of it becoming some epic story.  
> As I said, please let me know if you find errors or if they are far too OOC, and thanks again for reading!


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